7

You’re opening to your wolf.” He stiffened and shot to standing faster than I could track. I reached for him, but he blurred across the room before I could close the distance between us.

“What?”

“You... your knees are bloodied.”

“That’s what happens when you force a girl to spend ninety minutes on her knees while wearing a skirt three nights in a row.”

He clenched his jaw and forced his gaze away from the blood. And then I understood. “Oh. You want to taste me. Is that what this is, Father?”

He was murmuring something softly, eyes closed, a deep line between his eyebrows, forged in concentration. Then he stopped and flicked his focus back to me. “That’ll be all for tonight, Miss Fallon. Tomorrow night we will resume.”

“But—”

“That’s enough! Leave me.”

His shout startled me. All this time, even when he’d been angry with me, he’d kept his tone measured and soft. This was a man on the edge.